


United

by fullyloadedpoet



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dystopian, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-08-09 03:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16442135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullyloadedpoet/pseuds/fullyloadedpoet
Summary: Pure bloodlines used to be the only thing that mattered until a widespread outbreak that severely diminishes the world’s population. What remained of the world fits into the space of one walled city. Society is forced to implement arranged unions between its citizens. Thanks to the Algorithm, matches are made to ensure the repopulation of the world, that is until two citizens somehow break the mold.**Somewhat inspired by the Matched series...somewhat*****I am really in need of a proof reader or something to double check my grammar.***





	1. Chapter 1

Bridget Westfall always took her time walking back from the University. She preferred the solitary crooked path instead of the crowded city transportation. There was only one remaining bus that ran into the center of the city that she called home. The walk gave her time to reflect on the day’s lessons of her professors. She hated that the University sat on High Grounds, formerly known as Uptown. Society thought the new name would help break any former opinions of its residents, but everyone knew what it meant. High Grounds were inhabited by the wealthiest members of Society. She would never feel truly comfortable among the Uppers who dwelled there. Bridget was from Lower Town among the working class, even though she never truly looked the part. Her blonde hair and light eyes matched with her delicate figure allowed her to pass easily for an Upper. Her parents were some of the few people in their area who could afford to send a child to school. Public school was accessible to everyone until the age of sixteen, but only the top of the class were invited to attend the University, for a price. Although it was becoming increasingly difficult for Lowers to match those students from High Grounds. Everyone knew it was because fundings for education were meager to her kind. Somehow she had managed to earn high enough marks to make it.  
  
She had decided to study psychology. The human brain had always fascinated her from a young age. She spent her childhood buried inside books; until they were banned when she turned eleven. Books gave people ideas, and ideas were what had nearly destroyed their world in the first place. Her lessons in school were all lectures. Even the professors had their manuscripts and texts ripped away. Writing was reserved for official business, but never were anyone’s thoughts allowed to go from pen to paper. Bridget longed to smell that dusty aged pages again. At least they couldn’t take her thoughts away.  
  
By the time she managed to rouse herself from her day dream, her feet had reached the uneven cobblestone to her home. She looked up to see the old open sign dangling from the door. Her parents ran the grocery shop at the heart of their community. She smiled softly as she snagged a perfectly ripened apple from the waiting barrel on her way in. She greeted a few of the familiar faces doing last minute shopping before closing time. She made her way towards where she knew she would find her parents. They were stood near the register talking. Bridget’s eyebrows creased in confusion when she noticed the unusual look of worry across her mother’s face. Bridget’s mum was always smiling softly. It was almost as if she was hiding a secret from the rest of the world. Her cheek dimpled on the right side, a trait Bridget had inherited. But the dimple was invisible today.  
  
When her parents finally noticed she had returned, her mother could no longer hold back her tears. She began crying softly into the strong chest of Bridget’s father. Bridget approached quickly, fear beating along with her heartbeat.  
  
“What’s going on?” She asked as she reached for her mother’s hand to squeeze it reassuringly.  
  
“Nothing, nothing for you to worry about,” Her father shook his head as her mother continued to cry softly. Bridget knew he was holding back to try to protect her. Bridget crossed her arms over her chest and stood strongly. Well, as strongly as she could at her petite height.  
  
“You promised when I began Uni to treat me like an adult, so please,” she stated firmly. “Or are you going back on your word?” She knew her father would never break a promise, his word was his bond. He sighed but finally nodded, he knew would never win against his stubborn daughter. Giving in, he passed the letter in his hand towards her. Bridget took it carefully feeling the thickness of the paper. It was sealed with the mark of the Republic. Her heart surged upwards in her chest as her eyes danced over the message. She froze suddenly, finally understanding the reason for her mother’s sobs.  
  
“They’re taking the store? But I thought it was paid off!” She shook her head trying to understand what was happening. Her parents remained silent unsure of how to continue. Suddenly, it clicked in Bridget’s mind. “You did not finance the store to send me to Uni. Please tell me you didn’t,” She begged knowing it was futile. Tears began to sting her eyes. “Why did you do this?” She whispered.  
  
“Because a smart girl like you needs to be challenged. You would never be happy working in this place for your whole life, Bridge,” her dad explained pulling her against her parents with his big arm. He was correct. Bridget knew that her parents had sacrificed so much for her happiness. Once mother had gone without prescriptions for her migraines for six months to be able to buy Bridget a bicycle like the rest of the kids.  
  
“There has to be something we can do,” she said determined to find a solution. 

A silence fell upon the trio unlike Bridget had ever experienced in her twenty-one years on earth. They all knew there was something to be done. It was a conversation that they had avoided like a blister fearing the pain it would ultimately cause. 

“I’ll do it,” Bridget swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I’ll be United, and then we can keep the store.” Her words only caused her mother’s sobs to come harder.  
  
“Absolutely not.” her father released his girls from his arms, turning away both physically and emotionally from the conversation.  
“It’s not your choice, it’s mine and I want to do it. This is our home.”  
  
“I said no, Bridget. We will not be talking about this again,” He said sternly.  
  
“But dad!” She pleaded taking a step forward and grasping his calloused hand in her own.  
  
“Enough!” He shouted loudly his voice rumbling from deep in his chest. She had never heard him speak that way and it immediately struck fear into Bridget’s heart. “I’m sorry...We will find another way, alright? We will not lose you too.” He softened, pulling Bridget back into his warm embrace. She nodded silently. “Now let’s close up and have dinner. It’s been a long day for everyone, alright?” He smiled down at his daughter. Bridget nodded before fetching the broom from behind the counter to sweep up the shop. Her father escorted his wife upstairs to calm down.  
  
Bridget knew that the reason for their protectiveness was not unwarranted. There was a reason that they took extra care to ensure her safety. Her mother had never been the same since the outbreak had taken Bridget’s older brother. She used to be so strong and full of life, but anymore she was a shell of what she had once been. Grief will do that to a person, Bridget knew, especially after the loss of a child. While she loved them, sometimes their protection felt almost...suffocating. She thought the feeling would lessen when she got older, but it had only increased steadily as she neared the age of twenty-five. Twenty-five was the maximum age for Uniting. The only reason that Bridget hadn’t been matched at eighteen was her studies. Most of the other girls from her class had already been sent away with a suitcase and a wave goodbye from their families. Some girls dreamed of the day that they would be United, thinking it to be like the old fairy tales that they had heard as children. Bridget thought it to be the a nightmare instead. She hated the thought of being forced to marry a stranger for the sole purpose of continuing the population. The motto adopted since the outbreak was ‘For the greater good’.  
  
When Bridget was finished with sweeping, she quickly locked up and turned off the lights before making her way up towards the living quarters upstairs. She helped her mother as she prepared dinner. The evening passed quickly as the family of three ate dinner together around the kitchen table and played a few rounds of dominos before retiring to bed.  
  
She waited until she was certain that her parents had fallen to sleep before she began packing her suitcase. She filled it with the bare minimum of clothes, knowing her parents could donate the rest to the community center. They were in good condition, and another girl could get more use out of them than she could. Bridget then took her photo album from her shelf and placed it in the center of the suitcase ensuring it’s safe transport to her new home. She carried her shoes in her hand as she walked the down squeaky corridor floors. She paused briefly at her parent’s doorway gazing upon them sleeping soundly in their bed. They looked so peaceful in their sleep unbothered by the worries of the waking world. Before her fear could stop her, she continued through the house taking it in once last time before slipping out the front door and back down the stairs. It was then she put on her shoes and began the trek up the hill towards the Center for Uniting. She didn’t look back as she walked knowing that if she did, she’d be overtaken with tears. It was the right thing to do, she knew. Even if it hurt like hell, Bridget was going to take care of her parents for a change.


	2. Chapter 2

Franky Doyle had a reputation that far preceded her all throughout High and Low grounds. When she wasn’t throwing herself into schooling, she could be seen gyrating and drinking the night away at one of the numerous cabarets about town. If magazines hadn’t been made illegal years ago, her exploits would be plastered about every page. Instead, the newscasters took great care to detail her exploits semi-regularly on air. The attention used to annoy her, but she had long since abandoned any shame of what they spoke about her. Her parents on the other hand took great care to graciously donate to the stations to ensure that any news associated with the Doyle name held them in good light. Franky was sure that her parents had made monthly payment arrangements at this point. But it didn’t stop the photographers from spotting her and spreading it like a wildfire on scorched earth.  
  
She awoke just after the bell-tower at the center of town announced it was already midday. Groaning loudly, she pulled herself from bed and pulled on her robe, feeling too ill to even bother with choosing clothing from her vast wardrobe. Slowly she padded barefoot down the large spiral staircase of her family’s home. She could have made the trek with her eyes closed as many times as she had managed to stumble up the stairs with the sun peaking over the horizon.  
  
“Well look who has finally decided to grace us with her presence. Will you be taking breakfast or lunch, Francesca?” The high-pitched tone of her mother’s voice caused her head to throb, or maybe it was the endless supply of whiskey from the night before.  
  
“Morning Margaret,” Franky nodded towards her, knowing she had struck a nerve by the clench of her mother’s jaw. Her obvious annoyance at Franky’s comment had softened the ache in her head slightly.  
  
“Franky, please don’t refer to your mother that way,” her father reminded as she sat down at the long mahogany dining table with her parents on the other side.  
  
“Well if you would kindly remind Margaret that I do not respond to Francesca, I will reconsider,” she spoke as if her mother wasn’t sitting in earshot. Franky hid her smirk behind the coffee cup before her. Her mother sighed heavily before setting her napkin over the remains of her meal, her appetite lost. On cue, their housekeeper Liz returned from the kitchen to retrieve the plate.  
  
“Morning, Franky dear. Omelette?” Liz smiled towards the young woman kindly. Liz Birdsworth had been with the Doyle’s since before Franky was born. The entire household would cease to run if it weren’t for Liz’s capable hands.  
“And toast...lots of toast.” Franky propped her heavy head in her hand against the table.  
  
“I’ll fix you a juice as well, you could use the vitamins,” she pat Franky’s back comfortingly.  
  
“Thank you, Lizzie,” Franky smiled as she ventured back into the kitchen.  
  
“Another coffee, Liz?” Franky’s father asked with his earbud in its permanent place within his right ear. Franky couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t have the small object attached to him at all times. That was one of the prices that they paid for their life of luxury. Higher Grounds itself was separated into distinct neighborhoods depending on their chosen profession. The Lawkeeprs in charge of keeping the Republic running lived West. The Peacekeepers were the enforcers in the South. The Futurekeepers who were educators and doctors inhabited the East. The Doyle’s lived among the Secretkeepers to the North. They were the ones at the heart of the Republic. They were the ones who maintained the secrets of the past. Each profession came with a hefty pension and a sizeable home with a housekeeping staff. Housekeepers like Liz commuted from Low Grounds each day. When she was a girl Franky would beg and plead for her to stay each night, desperate for her motherly care that her own did not seem to possess.  
  
“Another late night, darling?” Her father turned his attention towards her.  
  
“I think so, can’t really remember the details. Allie wanted one last hurrah before the ceremony tomorrow. What did they used to call those? Bachelorette parties?” She asked with her eyebrows creased in thought. She vaguely remembered hearing about the old right of passage from before the outbreak and restructuring of the republic; before Unions were a thing. Franky loved hearing the history of the times before. When she could get them, she would devour them like a starving child, desperate to know more. Her father claimed it was an inherent trait of Secretkeepers, which she would no doubt become in order to follow in his large footsteps.  
  
“Something like that. You didn’t cause any trouble did you?” Her mother asked, her face pinched. Franky smirked devilishly and shrugged her shoulders. Truthfully she had no clue what had happened after she left the first Cabaret near Allie’s home in the West end of town in favor of a more posh one in the North. Franky’s mother pressed the console on the table to display the stream of news on the sizeable television screen mounted to the main wall. Her father used the table to conduct business when it wasn’t hosting family meals. Instantly Franky’s face was over the screen as she danced in the middle of the crowded floor with Allie at her side. The two were inseparable for years, but things would be changing now that Allie was being United at tomorrow’s ceremony. Franky was a year younger than her best mate, and therefore had another year before her inevitable Union. While she felt badly for Allie, she was grateful that she had more time.  
  
“For Christ’s sake, Francesca!” Her mother shouted as she slammed her empty glass on the table so hard it split into pieces. The sound of the shattering glass even caused Franky to jump in her seat. “Have you no shame for what you are doing to this family?” She yelled with her red manicured nail pointed at her daughter like the barrel of a gun. Franky remained silent with her eyes on the table’s varnish. “We’ve had enough of this.”  
  
“I’m sorry, okay? It was my last night with her. Who knows the next time we will see each other now,” Franky tried to reason with the irate woman. “It won’t happen again,” she promised once more.  
  
“You’re damn right it won’t happen again,” her mother mumbled before looking towards Franky’s father. He took out his earpiece, turned it off, and set it on the table.  
  
“Tomorrow you will attend the ceremony.”  
  
“I know, it’s required,” Franky shrugged her shoulders. She'd been required as the child of a Secretkeeper to attend every ceremony with each passing year. She felt disgusted when she saw the looks of fear on the Lower's faces as they were sent off from their families like pigs for slaughter. She may have been a Secretkeeper's daughter, but it did not mean that she agreed with the principles of the Republic.  
  
“Tomorrow you will attend the ceremony not as a spectator, but as a participant,” he stated factually as if it was the most normal statement in the world. Franky’s heart dropped through the hole in her stomach.  
  
“What?” she whispered in shock. “I’ve got one more year, I’m only twenty-four. I have time. I’m not even done with schooling yet,” she shook her head trying to comprehend the words that had just been spoken.  
  
“Your mother and I have agreed to send you a year early at the request of the Republic. You need to grow up and make something of yourself. Your name can only carry you so far in this town with the reputation you have built.”  
  
“This isn’t fair! The ceremony is tomorrow! When were you planning on telling me? When we arrived and I heard my name called?” Franky stood sharply out of her chair causing it to tumble to the floor loudly behind her. Her anger continued to boil inside her threatening to spill over at any moment.  
  
“Franky, darling, it’s for the best. The Republic will take you much more seriously once you have been Unionized,”  
  
“I don’t give a shit what they think of me! And neither should you! You’re my parents!” Franky screamed her vision clouding over with red.  
  
“That is no way to speak to your father, Francesca!” Her mother yelled back.  
  
“It’s fucking Franky, you bitch!” She snarled before storming away from the table leaving absolute chaos in her wake. 

There was absolutely no way she would be forced to Unionize before her time. No fucking way.


	3. Chapter 3

Franky spent the remainder of her last day locked within her favorite room of the home. It was practically invisible to the untrained eye, so it kept any unwanted visitors away. It stood in the middle of the main hallway which was decorated in lavishly intricate mahogany panelling. Only those who were told of its existence would be able to find it. The secret was the small knot in the grain. When pressed, the panel slid back to reveal its large and hidden interior. It’s discretion wasn’t what appealed to Franky the most, it was the contents of the secret room. From floor to high ceiling stood row after row of books. Secretkeepers were the only ones allowed to maintain any remnants of the past like this. Without the help of the old texts, they wouldn’t be able to remember all the details of life from before. Franky’s father showed her the room on her sixth birthday when her trade schooling was set to begin. She remembered how deeply her heart surged within her chest the moment she saw the dusty spines on the shelves. She’d never forget how he explained that all the secrets inside that room would be her responsibility some day. With his careful guidance, she began to devour the room whole as quickly as her eyes would allow. Often when they were unable to find her in the vast home, she would be sleeping soundly in front of the fire place with a fallen open beside her. But now it appeared that her youth was finally at an albeit, abrupt end.

Her parents had been smart enough to give her a wide breadth after their exchange. She hadn’t bothered to attend her last dinner, her stomach twisted into knots at the thought of what was to come. She did her best to distract herself with her favorite stories, but her mind kept wandering back to the situation she had found herself in. She felt betrayed by her parents, the very ones who were sending her to slaughter. Franky had never shown an interested in the idea of Unionizing. She always felt ill after attending the ceremonies, watching the Imports from below with unshed tears brimming in their eyes as they waited for their fate to be decided in front of the entire Republic. Franky hated the way that their families were forced to leave as soon as they were carted away to their new life. What she hated more was the idea of someone planning anything without the consent of others, especially for a defiant creature like herself.

Liz was the one to finally break her solitude as the clock struck nine. She carried with her a small plate of food and a cup of tea on a serving tray that she placed carefully on the table beside Franky.

“You should eat something, love,” Liz spoke kindly as she touched Franky’s shoulder. Without looking up, Franky shook her head and continued to read the book perched in her lap. “At least some tea then? It’s ginger, to help settle your stomach. You must be feeling anxious.”

“I’m feeling fucking angry, not anxious,” Franky stated bluntly, finally closing her book and glancing up. Liz’s brow was knit with worry as she took in the state of her young ward. Franky motioned towards the chair beside her, inviting Liz to join her. “Did you know about this?” Franky whispered, not even able to speak the sentence aloud yet. Liz sat down reaching for Franky’s hand to hold.

“I had no idea. You know I’d never be able to keep that from you if I did,” Liz shook her head as she sat. Franky nodded accepting her response. Unlike her parents, Liz was always honest. Liz looked up and noticed the television playing softly in the background as Franky read. She sighed. “You shouldn’t be watching the betting, it will make you sick.” Liz reached towards the remote to turn it off, but Franky grabbed it back first.

The day before the ceremony, channels were all set for announcing and placing bets on the Eligibles being put up for Unions. The categories were endless: ages, appearance, trades. But the lost lucrative category was selecting the correct Import for the year’s most desirable Eligible.

“I’ve got to know,” she whispered setting the remote back down out of Liz’s reach.

“It’s awful, darling. It should be made illegal. Betting on that fate of innocent children.” Liz shook her head in disgust.

“Not when there’s money for the Republic to earn.” Liz went silent. Although no one in her family would admit it, Franky knew she was right.

_“This just in ladies and gentleman Alan and Victoria Doyle have announced their daughter, Francesca will be attending as an Eligible for tomorrow’s ceremony at only twenty-four!”_  
  
_“That’s interesting, normally Eligible’s don’t Unionize early!’_  
  
_“Word has it that the future Secretkeeper was submitted by her parents in order to curb her wild ways. We saw her out last night at the Northern Cab drinking well past two in the morning!”_  
  
_“She is a wild one. Whoever the Algorithm chooses will definitely have their hands full.”_  
  
_“This will be the Union of the year, for sure! Better place your bets now, ladies and gentleman!”_

Enraged, Franky stood and threw the first book her hand could connect with to shatter the the paper-thin television screen. Her heart was pounding in her ears like she was submerged in water. In a trance, she flew towards another shelf and began hurling titles across the room with all of her might. She screamed loudly as she let the world know the turmoil that was going on inside of her. She froze, unable to continue as her vision clouded over with tears. She panted and tried to find her breath.  
  
“It’s not fair,” she managed to squeak out before falling onto the rug beneath her. She let herself be overtaken by sobs. Liz was beside her in no time, rubbing her back reassuringly. She was able to pull Franky into her arms to allow the young woman to get it out. Briefly, Liz saw Mr. Doyle checking in on them from the cracked panel wall. She shook her head as she rocked Franky in her arms, refusing him entry. He accepted the dismissal, and softly closed the door once more. He had done enough harm for the night, Liz thought as she felt the poor girl’s tears falling on her shirt. It seemed like it took hours for her cries to finally ease, but Liz stayed with her the whole time. Eventually, her breathing relaxed and she lifted her heavy head from Liz’s shoulder.  
  
“My daughter was Unionized. It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do, sending her off like that. She wasn’t smart enough for a scholarship, my Sophie, but she was still such a sweet girl.” Liz spoke softly.  
  
“I didn’t know you had a daughter,” Franky said. The rules between housestaff and Uppers were clear; they were strictly professional in nature. Liz tried hard to keep her distance, but she knew Franky craved a more caring touch since her parents were both so cold to the touch. “I’m so sorry, Lizzy. How did you...” Franky wasn’t quite sure how to finish her thoughts, but thankfully the blonde knew her well enough to fill in the missing pieces.  
  
“It was right around the time you were born, actually. I remember getting here the next day and thinking there would be no way I’d be able to survive it. But then do you know what happened?” She looked down at Franky who shook her head in response. “That day was the day you learned how to smile.” Franky blushed at her words. “I came to get you out of your crib that morning and you looked up at me with those big eyes and just...smiled. And that helped make the days go by a little easier.” Liz leaned down to press a kiss to Franky’s forehead.  
  
“What if I can’t do this?” Franky whispered so softly, afraid to speak her fears into the open air.  
  
“You are the strongest and the smartest girl I know, Franky. Don’t forget what you were put on this earth to do,” the housekeeper reminded as she glanced at the shelves around the room. “If anyone can make a difference in this place, it’s you,” she cupped Franky’s cheeks in her hands.  
  
“You’re a good mum, Liz,” Franky smiled softly.  
  
“And you’re a good kid,” Liz smiled back towards those beautiful green eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

The night before Bridget’s Uniting had left her wide awake in her small cot in the large gymnasium full of Imports. As hard as she tried, no number of turns or fluffs of her pillow would allow her to drift off to sleep. Not with the uncertainty of what was to come. The day had been filled with medical tests and preparation. Doctor’s had given Bridget a clean bill of health, and then had pricked her finger and taken the smallest sampling of blood.  
  
“That’s it?” Bridget had asked after the initial sting of the prick had worn off.  
  
“That’s all it takes.” The technician smiled as they pressed a cotton ball against her bleeding fingertip. It seemed odd that something so monumentally life changing only necessitated a drop of blood.  
  
Afterwards she was lead towards the wing of the Center tasked with preparing the Imports. The Republic much preferred it when they took the time to clean and dress them before the Ceremony. No one liked to see what life was actually like down in Low Grounds. After the most heavenly of showers she could ever remember, a woman named Bea was tasked in styling her to fit in with the Uppers. Bridget was mesmerized by the redness of her hair. She’d never seen something quite like it before. Bridget’s hair had always been...pretty enough. Now in the harsh light of the Center, it was a muted shade of blonde. Her hair had always been among the longest of her class. Her mother loved twisting the long locks into the most delicate of braids down her back. Now, looking at herself in the mirror, its length it made her look so young and fragile.  
  
“What’s say we have a little bit of fun shall we, Bridget?” Bea smiled as she played with the young woman’s hair, still damp from her shower. Bridget blushed at the words. Fun was not in her vocabulary, but she trusted the red haired woman. She had kind eyes unlike anyone she pictured working for the Republic having. She heard the snipping of Bea’s scissors, and saw the growing pile of her hair on the salon floor. By the looks of it, she’d have none left at the rate the stylist was going! It took several hours with Bridget’s back towards the mirror before Bea finally set her tools done and said, “Done!” She turned the young woman back around, but her eyes did not meet the same person that they had left.  
  
Bridget stood to get a closer look in the mirror. Staring back at her was a bright eyed woman with bright, vibrant blonde locks that were angled into a bob that ended just above her shoulders.  
  
“What do you think?” Bea smiled as she swept up the discarded locks.  
  
“It’s perfect,” Bridget whispered as she brought her hand up to touch it, feeling the silkiness against her fingertips. “Now I just need something to wear.”  
  
“I’ve got just the thing.” Bea lead Bridget back towards the closets full of dresses for the Imports to pick from. Something about it gave the young woman an uneasy feeling in her stomach. Was this the Republic’s way of apologizing for their fate? Let them have a taste of luxury since they were sacrificing all they knew?  
  
Before she could delve further into the thought, Bea had located the dress in question. Hidden in one of the higher racks, Bea pulled down the beautiful, a-line dress with cap sleeves. Bridget quickly tried it on in one of the accompanying dressing rooms. The flowy material was like nothing Bridget had ever felt before. It hugged her petite form perfectly, flaring out at her small waist. Ceremony dresses were required to be white, but Bridget could have sworn she noticed a slight blush tone to the fabric. She held up the skirt closer towards her eyes while Bea watched.  
“Is it…?” Before she could finish her question, Bea winked in response.  
  
“It’s blush white, It’s one of my favorite ways to metaphorically tell the Republic off. But no one will have the nerve to question it because you look so stunning. Looks like my work here is done, Bridget.” Bea smiled as she tucked a stray piece of hair behind Bridget’s ear. Before she could stop herself, Bridget wrapped her arms around the stylist and hugged her tightly in the dressing room.  
  
“Thank you,” Bridget whispered.  
  
“Do me a favor, give them hell tomorrow.” 

Bridget reflected on the woman’s kindness. She’d never known anyone in the capital to treat someone like her with such dignity. She was merely livestock being traded at this point, but not from the way that the woman had cared for her so lovingly.  
  
“Bridget? Are you awake?” A voice from beside her, woke Bridget from her thoughts. She turned over to see the girl in the next cot over, sitting up on her elbow. Vera, she thought her name was.  
  
“I’m sorry, I just can’t seem to fall asleep,” Bridget whispered propping herself up as well.  
  
“I keep having this dream where I am going to be United with my Eligible and when we go to kiss, I turns into a frog,” Vera revealed. Bridget laughed softly at Vera’s confession.  
  
“Better a frog than an arse, I guess?” Bridget’s words lightened the mood and dissolved the two into a fit of quiet giggles. Nearby, another girl tried to hush them back into silence. They laid back down, but still facing towards each other. Somehow, they felt better than they had before. Bridget almost could feel a wave of sleep washing over her form.  
  
“Goodnight, Bridget.”  
  
“Night, Vera. No more froggy dreams.” Through the crack in her eye, Bridget could see the small smile appear on Vera’s face as she fall back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm always looking for critiques/comments/advice! Also, if you or someone you know does proof-reading, please let me know!


	5. Chapter 5

The last time Franky had worn a dress was when she was eight years old. She had stayed after school to play kickball with some of the kids in her class. She was the fastest girl in her class, and she took full advantage of it. She had just managed to kick the ball over the fence, sending the opposite team running in its direction. Beaming with pride, Franky ran like hell over all of the bases until she was about to clear home. Her shoelace had come undone, sending her flying face first towards the base. Thankfully she had made it before getting tagged, but she’d also managed to shred the skin of her knees and shins to ribbons. She wasn’t able to stay and celebrate their victory long before Liz dragged her off to the emergency room. So she had never worn a dress again.  
  
The morning of her Uniting Franky’s anger had finally subsided, replaced by a sense somber realization. She readied in silence, opening her closet to find a suitable prospect. Franky’s mum had set out an elegant long emerald green gown. It was beautiful, but as Franky put the thing on, it instantly made her feel sick. The clinging silk felt suffocating against her olive skin. Unable to take another moment, she tore the thing off her shoulders and allowed it to fall in a heap at her feet. The brunette then kicked it to the back of her closet. Out of sight, out of mind. Franky dressed instead in a pair of form fitting black pants with her favorite pair of boots. She then carefully buttoned a blouse that hinted at her ample cleavage. She then finished the look with a black leather-trimmed blazer. She turned in the mirror, smiling softly. That was much better. If her family was going to force her to do this, she was going to do it her way.

Bridget and Vera decided to get ready together the next day. Something about the petite brunette comforted Bridget. Maybe it was the fact that they were bonded together in this. During the actual Ceremony, Imports were allowed to sit in any order. It was the Eligibles of the Republic that would be sorted alphabetically by trade. The sexes were intermixed. The morning had passed in a flash and before the two women knew it, they were being shuffled into the theatre and to their seats. The rest of the Republic was already seated in the rows behind them, watching anxiously. Bridget felt like they were being paraded like cattle in front of them. She swallowed back the bile in her mouth.  
  
The Ceremony began by Governor Joan Ferguson leading them in the reciting of the Rights of the Republic. Bridget had been saying it for so long in school; it should have been automatic. But something about the events taking place that day caused the familiar words to slip from her mind.  
  
“For the greater good,” Governor Ferguson spoke.  
  
“For the greater good,” the room replied in unison.

Vera was United first out of the two of them to a Lawkeeper named Jacob Stewart. He was an attractive man with an athletic build. Bridget squeezed the brunette’s hands reassuringly.  
  
“He doesn’t look like a frog.” Bridget smiled causing Vera to do the same. She was escorted onto the stage and they completed their Uniting vows.  
  
The Secretkeepers were always last in the procession, their status respected above all. Bridget noticed as the amount of Imports dwindled down until there were only about fifteen of them remaining. Out of the fifteen, only eight would be United. The numbers didn’t always line up. Bridget prayed not to be one of the castoffs, knowing their fate was far from glamorous. Those who did not match would remain workers of the Republic for the remainder of their days as “Reserves”.  
  
“Francesca Doyle, please come forward,” Governor Ferguson spoke into the microphone.  
  
Bridget had heard that name before a thousand times. It was muttered all across campus by her classmates as well as on televisions. She was one of the most spoiled High Grounds inhabitants Bridget had ever seen. The girl could be seen driving a myriad of different vehicles to and from classes. The blonde was sure that Franky’s grades in school were not based on the quality of her work, but instead the hefty sum of money that her father donated annually. The open space outdoors where Bridget ate her lunches she brought from home was even aptly named ‘Doyle Court’. It took every ounce of strength inside of her not to throw her apple cores at the name etched in stone.  
  
The woman in question mounted the stairs causing the rest of the crowd to gasp at her appearance. Instead of the usual for female Eligibles, Franky was dressed sharply in a suit with her long hair flowing in waves down her back. If Bridget hadn’t found her so absolutely arrogant and annoying, she might have considered the woman to be beautiful.

Franky did her best to control the beating of her heart inside of her tight chest. Normally she wasn’t affected by the hundreds of eyes on her, but today was entirely different. She felt like she had just walked into a room where all of the people present had just been caught talking about her. Her the palms of her hands hadn’t stopped sweating since she had entered the space with the rest of the Eligibles of the North. No matter how many times she wiped them against her slacks, they came back even more clammy than before. Liz wished more than anything that Liz was there instead of her traitor-like parents. They were seated towards the back of the crowd with the other Secretkeepers. Franky wondered what they were saying about her to their friends or vice-versa. She’d never really cared about what people thought of her before today. Now being thrust into the spotlight in a world she had never pictured made her feel weak.  
  
Quickly, she shook the thoughts from her head and climbed the stairs with her chin held high. She would not let them see her break. The gasp from the audience was aubile as they took in her ensemble. She smirked slightly as she stood before the Governor to begin her act of the play. Ferguson was a menacing woman that always managed to leave Franky feeling uneasy since the moment she was elected when she was a girl. Something about the way her dead eyes stared blankly at her. She was known around as ‘the robot freak’ among her friends because of her lack of emotion in everything she did. No one could be that cold and calculating.  
  
“Francesca Doyle, do you swear to honor the match that the algorithm and its creators will bestow upon you today?”

She paused. The crowd began to squirm uncomfortably.

“Francesca, I _said_ do you-” Ferguson started again.  
  
“I heard you the first time,” Franky interrupted. “I swear.”  
  
“And do you swear to respect the Republic as long as you live?” Franky didn’t remember the freak asking the rest of the Eligibles this question. By the exchange of confused looks in the crowd, she didn’t.

Touche, Ferguson.

“I swear.” Franky bit her tongue. When the Governor had finally accepted her response, she motioned for the gentleman in the lab coat beside her to begin the Uniting. He held out his hand for Franky’s, which she slowly extended. She wasn’t sure why she was so afraid. She’d seen thousands of Unitings and they all happened the same way. The Eligible’s index finger was pricked for blood, the blood was put into the database and the algorithm went to work finding the perfect Uniting to ensure the longevity of the Republic. Seconds later her finger was pricked and the small wound was covered with a small piece of cotton and bandage as the algorithm went to work. She could feel her pounding heartbeat now permeating to her pricked finger. Normally the Uniting didn’t take more than thirty seconds seeing as the blood of the Imports was taken the day before at the Centre. Franky felt like time had stopped as the large screen behind them worked to find her match. The crowd was becoming a bit restless as they waited.

 _“Poor machine can’t think of anyone who can put up with her!”_ A spectator shouted causing several to laugh uncomfortably. A guard quickly removed the individual by force out the double doors.

  
And then, just when they had almost given up, an image and name of her match had finally appeared on the screen.

 

**Bridget Westfall**

 

The crowd fell into utter chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Thanks for being patient while I work on this! This is really out of my element so any critiques/comments/etc are welcomed and apprecaited. Hope you enjoy!


	6. Chapter 6

Bridget Westfall had never experienced the feeling of having hundreds of pairs of eyes on her, until that exact moment in time. Her picture was displayed on the screen for all to see, so it was impossible for her to deny her identity. One of the remaining Imports pushed her up out of her seat in order to make her way towards the stage. The silence that had fallen over the crowd was unlike anything she had ever experienced in her lifetime. Normally the Republic’s citizens were known to continuously run their mouths regardless of what was actually coming out of them. But now, presented with the current situation, they had finally fallen speechless. She knew better than to search their faces for her parents, seeing them now would only make her cry. There was no way that they would be able to save her now. Unitings were final. The only way out was humiliation or death. Instead, she kept her eyes down on her shiny shoes until she reached the stage beside her United. 

Franky watched as the petite blonde made her way up towards the stage like a shell-shocked child. She looked so small and frightened that all Franky wanted to do was protect her, tell her to run the other way, anything to save her from what was to come. Franky’s skin was thick, she could handle the comments thrown her way, but this innocent soul? They would eat her alive without a second thought and then ask what the next course was. Save for the enlarged photo above her, Franky had no idea what her face looked like because she kept her head down as she walked until she was standing directly beside her. She was even smaller than she appeared to be, her height reaching just barely beyond Franky’s shoulders. 

Governor Ferguson looked as if was moments away from a complete system crash as the two women, the two matched women stood in front of her. Stopping now would only admit that something went wrong, and that the system that they had fought so hard to rebuild was actually flawed. And that was something that Joan Ferguson would never admit in the light of day. Instead, she continued on as if everything was going according to plan. 

“Francesca Doyle, Bridget Westfall. The algorithm has determined that you both are to be United before us today. Please understand that this is a binding agreement between the two of you. Once United, you will remain that way until the Republic or the end of life should separate you. If either of you has any objections, now is the time.” Joan Ferguson was not a religious woman. Life was not determined by some grand deity in the sky above them, but instead by calculated facts. But in that moment, she prayed to any God that would listen for either of the women in front of her to speak. 

Silence

“Very well, please join hands,” she continued. Franky turned to look at Bridget for the first time, their eyes finally locking on each other for a brief moment, before the Governor’s words interrupted their gaze. “For the greater good.”

“For the greater good,” they spoke in unison. 

Immediately after the two exited the stage, they were pulled away by two Peacekeepers and escorted to a small room to wait; for what they didn’t know.

“Did you do this?” Bridget accused with her arms crossed over her chest. She had separated herself by standing in the furthest corner of the room away from Franky.  
  
“No introduction? Hi, I’m Franky, nice to meet you too,” Franky said sarcastically, extending her hand to shake Bridget’s. The blonde didn’t budge to accept it. Feeling denied, Franky slid her hand back into the pocket of her blazer and leaned back against the wall. “And to answer your question, no I didn’t do this. What on earth makes you think I’d be capable of rigging a Uniting?”  
“You’re father is the Director of Secretkeepers,” Bridget stated matter of factly.  
  
“My father is an arsehole. He’s the reason I’m here in the first place. Do you honestly think I want to be here right now? Besides, why on earth would I risk the wrath of the Freak?”  
  
“The Freak?”  
  
“Ferguson.”  
  
“You shouldn’t call the Governor such things,” the petit woman warned. Franky scoffed and rolled her eyes. Great, she thought, she was destined to spend the rest of her life with a Republic loving sheep. Before the brunette could open her mouth with another retort, the doors opened to reveal her parents followed by two men in lab coats and Governor Ferguson herself.  
“Hands,” the menacing woman stated. Both Franky and Bridget stepped forward and extended their hands. Their fingers were pricked once more. Without a word, the workers showed the results on the screen towards Ferguson. “Again.” Both men set to work pricking them another time.  
  
“Are you turning us into pin cushions, Governor?” Franky asked with a smirk on her face.  
  
“Francesca, this is not a joke,” The mother scolded her daughter’s remark. When Governor Ferguson was shown the same results, the corner of her lip twitched.  
  
“Which one of you did this?” The pair stayed silent. “Well?” She raised her voice.  
  
“Rest assured governor, Francesca doesn’t have access to any sensitive information in our entire home. Isn’t that right?” Alan Doyle glanced towards her with a look of warning on his face. Knowing better than to press her luck any further, Franky simply nodded in agreement.  
  
“And you Ms. Westfall?”  
  
“My parents are dead. I have no choice,” the blonde said quickly. To tell the truth about her parents could put them in danger, so instead she lied to save them.  
  
“Very well. But you can be certain if we discover anything, and I mean anything, you will all be hearing from us,” the woman warned.  
  
“Of course, Governor Ferguson,” Alan Doyle nodded without argument. Without another word, Ferguson and her workers exited the room, leaving the Doyle family and their newest member behind.  
  
“Franky, if you did something-“ her mother began once more.  
  
“I didn’t! Jesus, I didn’t even want to be here in the first place! Why don’t you blame yourself before you go accusing me!” Franky cursed.  
  
“Enough! The both of you! We can discuss this at home. I don’t want anyone to overhear.” Alan snapped and both women fell silent. “You,” he turned his attention towards Franky. “You are to come straight home with no detours, understood?”  
  
“What, I can’t even give Gidget the tour?” Franky teased.  
  
“It’s Bridget,” the petite blonde finally opened her mouth to speak to the trio. She felt like a child around the tall family.  
  
“Bridget, we will see you at our home.” Victoria nodded curtly. She then turned her sights back on her daughter. “In twenty minutes.” Franky nodded without another word, watching as her parents left.  
  
“Well, Gidget, we’ve got twenty minutes for the tour.”  
  
“My name is Bridget,” she said once more, but firmly.  
  
“I know, but, I like Gidget. It suits you.” Franky smiled broadly with a wink. She opened the door for the smaller woman to leave first. Bridget rolled her eyes and scoffed as she exited.  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! I will be uploading another chapter here soon!

The first few days after the Uniting passed by painstakingly slow. In an attempt to make things work in such an unusual situation, the Doyle’s had provided Bridget with a guest room with adjoining bathroom to herself, which she only chose to leave when summoned for mealtimes at the large dining table. Meals were usually silent or the conversation was forced at best.  
  
Franky tried to no avail to make her feel welcome. She realized that after being dropped into a new home without any contact to her former life, maybe humor was not the way to go. Instead she treated Bridget with gentle kindness. She took care to give the petite blonde all the space she needed. She tried her best not to be offended when she only came out for meals, and then retreated quickly back to her quarters without so much as a goodnight.  
  
On day six, Franky knocked on Bridget’’s door for dinner. She had asked Liz to prepare her prize-winning lasagna knowing it was a real showstopper. She figured if meals were the only opportunity that they had to see each other, maybe it could actually give them something to talk about.  
  
“Bridget?” Franky asked to the wooden door when the young woman hadn’t responded to the knock. She still received no response. Fearing the worst, Franky turned the door handle and entered the room. “Bridget?”  
  
Upon entering, she was immediately greeted with a towel clad, freshly showered blonde. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head just as Bridget registered that she was no longer alone in her sanctuary.  
  
“Get out!” Bridget yelled, gripping her towel around her tightly. Franky stood frozen, unable to form a full phrase after viewing the blonde’s flawless pale skin. “What are you doing? Go!” Bridget screamed louder, shooing her away with her freehand. Franky fled the room with bright crimson cheeks and her eyes on her shoes. Just as she had managed to cross the threshold, Bridget slammed the door behind her.  
  
“I’m sorry! I wasn’t-I didn’t see any-Dinner’s read when you’re-FUCK.” Franky never stuttered, but now she wasn’t able to stop. What was wrong with her?  
  
“I’m not hungry. And by the looks of it neither are you. You already got an eyeful.” Bridget said through the wooden door. Franky’s forehead dropped against the door’s hard surface in front of her.  
  
“I didn’t-” Franky sighed. She knew trying to explain herself was useless. She must have looked like a total idiot with her mouth open gawking at the poor girl. If she didn’t think Franky was weird already, she certainly did now. “Look I’m sorry, yeah? I’ll just have Liz bring it up to you.”  
  
“Thank you.”   
  
  
  


That’s when Franky stopped trying to louer Rapunzel from her tower. Instead, she sent any messages through Liz. Anything that Bridget needed she would communicate to Liz like a carrier pigeon passing words back and forth. Anything that Bridget requested, Franky had delivered to her by the end of the day.  
  
It was nearing the end of the day when Liz delivered her most recent request: knitting needles and yarn. Bridget desperately longed for something to keep her hands busy. He mother had taught her how to knit when she was a young girl. She only hoped that it would come back easily to her. Liz set her dinner tray along the white dresser before bringer her the supplies she asked for.  
  
“Thank you, Liz,” Bridget said as she took the two items into her hands. She immediately found the edge of the yarn and she willed her brain to remember how to cast the stitches on. How could she remember the rest of the steps, but not the most important one?  
  
“Here, let me show you.” Liz then showed Bridget how it was done. Her hands manipulated the materials with ease before handing them back to the blonde. Liz nodded as she watched Bridget pick up the step quickly. Bridget then began to knit her first row of the lush string. She had never worked with such quality yarn before. It was not like the rough kind she was used to down in Low Grounds. “Are you planning on staying in here forever, love?” Liz asked a few moments later. Bridget shrugged keeping her blue eyes on her hands as she worked. “Franky told me what happened the other day. How she saw-”  
  
“Please, don’t remind me,” Bridget groaned absolutely mortified. She did not want to relive the moment over again.  
  
“She comes off strong, I know that. And I’m not telling you what to do. But she is a good kid if you give her a chance.” Bridget remained silent, continuing to rhythmically pull the yarn around her needles. “I’ll get out of your hair. Good luck with the scarf,” Liz gave the young woman’s knee a brief pat before she slipped out the door leaving her alone in her room with only her thoughts and her knitting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know how you're liking this. Comments give me life.


	8. Chapter 8

It had been over a month since Franky had last seen Bridget in person. She never left the comfort of her room, not even for meals. How she wasn’t going absolutely mad was a wonder to Franky. More than a few hours alone in her own home made her feel like dying. Early each morning she’d go running to take her mind off things. She’d attempt to catch a glimpse of the blonde through her bedroom window, but she always came up empty handed. Franky thought for sure one of these mornings she would see she had escaped. With as much yarn as she’d been requesting, the brunette was certain that Bridget was knitting her own rope to get as far away from her as possible. She knew that things couldn’t remain like this forever, not if they were to truly be United to one another. Peacekeepers would be checking in on them to ensure everything was going smoothly. If it wasn’t, they’d be hell to pay at the hands of Joan Ferguson.  
  
Franky had waited until she was certain the rest of the house was laying dormant before she tiptoed down the hallway towards Bridget’s room. She took a deep breath before tapping softly against the door. It took a few minutes, but Franky could hear shuffling from the other side. One of Bridget’s blue eyes appeared in the crack of the door eyeing her suspiciously.  
  
“Franky?” her sleepy voice whispered.  
  
“Come with me,” Franky whispered, motioning down the hall with a tilt of her head. Bridget didn’t budge. “Please come with me?” She tried again. Liz had explicitly told Franky to mind her manners.  
  
“What for?” Bridget asked with her arms crossed over her chest. She very clearly wasn’t buying what Franky was trying to sell.  
  
“Trust me.” Franky whispered again before turning to pad silently down the corridor. Please, please, please follow me, Franky begged inside her brain. After a moment of hesitation, Bridget tied her robe around her waist. Curiosity had gotten the better of her, so she followed Franky downstairs. The older of the pair was dressed casually in a black singlet and shorts. Without the restriction of her waking clothes, Bridget was able to see how slim the woman was. She was much fitter than she’d originally thought. Beneath the tanned legs was a thin layer of muscle, no doubt from the running Bridget had seen her doing in the early hours of the morning outside of her bedroom window.  
  
Suddenly, Franky paused without any notice. Fearing the worst, Bridget grabbed her hand instinctively. Surely Franky had heard something to bring her to such an abrupt stop in the middle of the corridor. Then she watched the brunette press the wall with her thumb. Bridget could have sworn she was sleep walking when she saw that happened next. Had the wall just moved? She blinked the sleep from her eyes. It had moved! Franky took a step forward, leading Bridget in by the hand still wrapped in her own; the one that she had grabbed. Once the door had slid closed, Franky pressed on the lights to reveal the dimly lit library.  
  
Bridget felt the air being swept away from her lungs. She had never seen something so incredibly beautiful before. There must have been thousands of titles lining every available surface. A large fireplace was burning softly in the middle of the room. Scattered around were several velvet covered arm chairs for one to sit in while the read from the endless supply of books.  
  
“Wow,” she finally whispered as she took a step towards one of the tall shelves. She reached to touch one of the spines, but suddenly paused to make sure it was alright by glancing back towards the brunette. Franky nodded allowing her to proceed. “How?” Bridget looked back over her shoulder as she took the book in her head. It was old and the hard cover was tattered, but it was still beautiful in its own right.  
  
“Secretkeepers are the only ones with access. Each of us is given certain parts in history to keep. These are mine.” Franky motioned to the large collection of texts she’d be made responsible for someday.  
  
“Have you read them all?” Bridget asked, causing a smile to spread across Franky’s face before she shook her head.  
  
“Not quite. Some parts of history are more interesting than others, so I tend to stick to what intrigues me,” she explained as she picked up a few books she had left behind and returned them to their proper shelf.  
  
“Such as?”  
  
“I’ll show you.” Franky disappeared behind one of the shelves, she motioned for Bridget to follow with the wiggle of her index finger. “Come here, this way.” Without a moment to waste, Bridget close behind her. Although she was tall, the brunette still needed to stand on her toes to reach the book in question. She pulled down the worn piece before she set it in Bridget’s hands.  
  
“Where the Wild things are?” Bridget asked with knitted brow. It appeared to be a children’s book from the colorful pictures painted across the front of it.  
  
“You can read.” It was Franky’s turn to have her breath knocked out of her chest. She shook her head confused. No one, absolutely no one had access to books without the appropriate credentials. The penalty for being caught with illegal reading materials was death, so how on earth could she do it?  
  
“My dad taught me when I was little. He somehow managed to keep a few books hidden beneath the floorboards of our home. He had old newspapers stuffed in the attic too. When we’d read through all of those, he’d write on packaging paper for me to read and then burn them in the fireplace so no one could find them.” Bridget wasn’t sure why she was telling her this. Couldn’t this get her in trouble?  
  
“So you aren’t a Republic loving sheep after all,” Franky chuckled with a wide grin. “That’s a relief. I was beginning to think we’d never have anything to talk about.” The brunette occupied herself by pulling a few other books from various shelves. Had she memorized where all of them were? When she was satisfied with the titles she’d chosen, she headed back towards the large rug in front of the fireplace. Franky sat down against a plush cushion. “What are you waiting for? Pick one.” She motioned for Bridget to search the shelves as she picked up a rather large book from her pile. With her approval, the blonde began to scour the shelves. She felt nervous to choose with so many choices, but her eyes settled upon an old familiar; Beauty and the Beast. Bridget was sure she’d asked her mum to recite the tale at least a hundred times before she went to sleep. Her heart ached as she wondered how her parents were doing.  
  
She brought the book and settled herself on the cushion opposite Franky who was already deep into her own book. The two silently read side by side, the only sound was the crackling fire warming them. Although they didn’t speak, the energy between them felt comfortable. Bridget decided that she liked it. When her eyes stumbled upon an unknown word, her brows creased as she tried to figure it out for herself. Although her father had taught her all he could, it did not make her an expert. She looked up and found Franky’s eyes looking right back to her. Knowing she was caught, Franky cleared her throat and cast her eyes back down to her own book.  
  
“Can you help me?” she asked softly and held out her book towards the brunette. She pointed her delicate finger at the culprit. “I don’t know that word.” Franky leaned over to take a look.  
  
“Chevalier, it means knight. It’s French,” she explained kindly.  
  
“You speak French too?” Franky shrugged in response and nodded curtly. Bridget had to stop her mouth from dropping open. Bridget had always just assumed that she just skated by on her reputation alone, but perhaps she had been wrong all along. It appeared that the woman possessed some kind of humbleness at her abilities. “Wow,” she whispered in awe.  
  
“I could teach you,” the brunette offered.  
  
“I think I’ll stick to mastering English first.” Bridget admitted as she kept reading. The two read well into the night until the fire was nearly all ashes remaining. Shivering, Franky moved to add another few logs in the fireplace, but as she rose, she noticed the small woman sleeping soundly on the cushion with her book still open in her hand. She smiled at the sight noticing how peaceful she appeared while she slept.  
  
“Bridget?” She whispered to the sleeping woman. She crouched down beside her. “Bridget, wake up,” she tried again to no avail. Franky carefully took the book from her hand and placed it on the table nearby for her return. Gently she picked up the petite woman, supporting her in her strong arms as they made their way back up the stairs. Once she approached her room, Franky set a still sleeping blonde in her large bed. She sat briefly on the edge, looking at her. She really was beautiful, she noted before bringing the down comforter up over her body. “Goodnight, Gidge,” she whispered before padding back out and closing the door. Franky couldn’t stop the goofy smile from appearing on her face as she retreated to her own bedroom and promptly fell asleep with butterflies in her stomach.


End file.
